My shirt had been hand-tailored by my Lorelai. She was a master seamstress, and her fashions were renowned throughout Gilneas. Her dresses draped the nobility of the city, and her skirts were all the rage in the border towns. My own clothing was always well cared for, and more stylish than I could have ever wanted. These were the fleeting thoughts in my mind as I looked down at the blood splashed across the fine embroidery of my tunic. A snarl brought me back into the moment, and I hastily blocked a swing from a worgen. I slammed my makeshift barrel-lid shield into its foaming muzzle before running my longsword into its midsection. The fearsome beast slumped down to the ground, gurgling its death gasp as I pulled my blade from its body.
"Aye, now that's a plan a fellow can get behind!" Renvold crowed, as he practically broke into a jig. I stared at him in disbelief. How could he be so upbeat, when we had just cut our way through a wave of worgen? I was still covered in entrails, for Light's sake! Renvold hurried over to me, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"Didja hear that, mate? Ol' Greymane hisself did give the order to release Crowley and his chums from the prison!" and he let out a cheer. I was stunned. It was too much to take in at once. There were monsters from myth storming the city, and now the King wanted to release the most infamous rebels of the civil war? While I didn't share Renvold's enthusiasm, I wasn't voicing disappointment or anger either. I was too numbed to mount much of a response. I could imagine what a tirade Lorelai would have started. She was more of a Royalist than I, and much more opinionated about it as well. The arguments between her and Renvold were spectacular, and I could never truly tell if they were in jest or not. I love when she gets wrapped up in a heated debate, and her passionate speeches are always inspiring. Renvold grabbed my upper arm, shaking me out of my recollection.
"Hurry up, Berk! You've got your 'ead in the clouds again! How you can do that at a time like this, I'll never know," Renvold shakes his head before turning around.
"Where d'you think Captain Broderick has gone to? He's the one wit' the key to the jail." Renvold scratched his goatee thoughtfully and scanned the area. We were in the court just in front of the terrace leading to Stoneward Prison, the largest jail in Gilneas. Thick vines crept up the stone walls, growing in the crevices where the soft sandstone had weathered away. Only a few tiny windows broke the pattern of the bricks. It housed all the most dangerous criminals, as well as a good chunk of the rebels that had played key roles in the Northgate Rebellion. I narrowed my eyes and peered past the fog and the scattered guards that were gathered in front of the entrance. I could see movement within, and perhaps the flashing of steel. I broke into a trot, concerned that the guards would soon not be the only ones occupying the terrace. Renvold and I ran up the ramp leading to the jail courtyard. At the top was a man who looked to be a guard, until I noticed the extra row of badges upon his tabard.
"Civilians, eh? Is that the best I can expect?" the captain huffed. He looked down and took notice of the longsword I was sporting.
"I don't suppose there is much of a distinction now though. I hope you know how -" he was silenced as a massive black worgen fell from the sky, and crushed him into the ground. The beast tore into his throat and ripped his arm from its socket. It flung the disembodied limb to the side as it twisted around to face us. Its muzzle was drawn back in a fierce snarl, with crooked fangs protruding past its lower jaw. The twist of fur growing from its chin was slicked with the blood of the fallen captain. A low rumbling growl came forth from its chest, and it took a step towards us. Before I could react, there was a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye. A dagger planted itself nearly between the glowing yellow eyes of the monster. The worgen dropped heavily backwards, and lay twitching on the remains of the captain.
"A jolly good shot, if I do say so myself!" Renvold quickly bent over the dead worgen to retrieve his silver throwing knife. I barked out a harsh laugh, my mind still reeling with the close encounter. If I had been standing but two feet closer, I would also be on the ground...I shook my head. I could not entertain such thoughts right now. Shouts rang throughout the courtyard, and a bell began to toll. The worgen would be here in force any minute now.
"Lets get up to the tower, we must inform Captain Broderick of the King's plan," I said while pointing towards a heavy oak and iron door off to our left. Renvold nodded and finished wiping off his knife. The door swung open slowly, revealing a winding staircase minimally lit by torchlight. The stone steps were worn by the feet of the watch men that used this stairway to reach the rooftop patrol routes. We were about half way when the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting drifted down the tower.
"-and seal the right wing door! I don't want those madmen on the loose, they're as bad as the worgen!" a rough voice yelled. Steel plated boots clanged on the stone as Captain Broderick raced down the steps towards us. He paused a moment when he saw us.
"And who might you two be? I haven't time for escorting hapless citizens!" he growled. His tabard had an ugly dark stain diagonally across the Gilnean symbol, and it looked as though this left pauldron had been dented severely.
"Ol' Greymane sent us 'ere! We're to let you know that Crowley is free to go," Renvold gave a rather sarcastic salute as he delivered the news. The captain's eyes widened in surprise before his brows furrowed into a frown.
"You expect me to believe that? The city's erupted with madness, but I refuse to believe our King's lost his mind as well." Broderick shrugged his shoulders. "But if you're fel-bent on reaching the inmates, I'm too short-handed to stop you. Besides, they may have already escaped. We've been having security breaches ever since the attack began." Without any further discussion, the captain pushed past us and hurried the rest of the way down the stairwell.
We emerged on the rooftop of the jail. The sound of fighting floated upwards from the courtyard we had just vacated. There was a mingling of screams from man and beast, and the dull thud of swords meeting flesh. The roof had a walkway stretching before us. Cautiously, Renvold and I walked along the catwalk, uncertain of what awaited us around the corner up ahead. I heard men's voices, talking in hurried tones. We went around the corner to the larger terrace, and saw a handful of rough looking inmates. Their hair was long and tangled, and few of them wore shirts. One man was lying on his back, being tended by another. I hadn't recognized any of the men, but it was obvious that Renvold did. He gave a shout, then broke into a trot. When he approached the man with red hair, he saluted him with vigour.
"Sir Crowley, let me bring a bit o' good cheer to you and your boys here! Ol' Greymane has given th' word for your release!" Renvold was positively beaming. The man with the red hair clapped a hand on Renvold's shoulder.
"Greymane is right. These beasts don't give a damn about our politics. Gilneas needs to stand together." Sir Crowley had deep, fluid voice. He was taller than myself, with very broad shoulders. He had a commanding presence, the sort of countenance that savvy politicians spend years cultivating. I could understand now how he had been able to win over so many to his cause in the civil war. Renvold did not appear as impressed as I. In fact, he looked rather confused.
"Sir? That's a funny sort of statement from you, no offense. I'm sure we could stop these beasts in their tracks on our own, what with the stockpiles-" he was interrupted by a piercing howl. I turned to look at the source of the sound, and I nearly dropped my longsword. At least two dozen worgen were perched on the rooftops, surrounding us on all sides. Crowley gave a shout, and his men began to form a semi-circle around the prone man. Sweat began to run down my face, and I gripped the hilt of my sword until my knuckles were white. Why were the monsters just sitting there? What were they waiting for? A second howl cut through the night, and an enormous grey worgen stood upright on the roof across the way. He then did something that utterly baffled me: he pointed at us. With this simple, very human motion, all of the worgen leapt towards us at once.
Chaos was all around me. I could only focus on one worgen at a time, the others seething around me in a blur of black and grey. Cut downwards, thrust forwards, parry and dodge. I lost my barrel-lid shield when a worgen ripped it from my grip. The tang of blood was sharp in my nose. Driven by pure adrenaline, I swung my sword like a man possessed. I must have felled at least five of the monsters before a terrible pain shot through my shoulder. I roared in pain and surprise, and swung the hilt of the sword backwards over my shoulder. The butt of the sword connected the with skull of a worgen, stunning it. I swung around to face it, and ran it through with my blade. It kept snarling next to my face, and I dodged its paw as it swung at my head. I kicked it to the ground, pulling my sword free as I did. I cried out in pain, and dropped my sword as I grasped my wounded shoulder. I looked at the palm of my hand. It was wet, and coated with dark red blood. I felt dizzy, and the chaotic fight around me began to spin. I stumbled sideways, and the world went black.